


Escape

by Lutefiskfisk



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, F/F, Financial Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Nichorello, POV Second Person, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 11:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17000634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lutefiskfisk/pseuds/Lutefiskfisk
Summary: Nicky and Lorna have both been released from prison, but Nicky's past unexpectedly catches up with her.





	Escape

**Author's Note:**

> …in which Nicky seeks escape, not in drugs, but in Lorna.
> 
> Because, for Christ's sake, there needs to be a scene in which Lorna actively takes care of Nicky. I firmly believe that she's the type of person who'd do that and it's a shame that the show hasn't really gone there yet. 
> 
> I kind of liked doing second-person POV when I was writing my other fic, so I wrote this one in the same style.
> 
> And I'm not sure how I feel about the way this turned out, tbh. I liked it better while I was writing it than I do now, but I guess it doesn't get better if I edit it to death, so here goes, lol. Some passages probably seem ooc, but I like to think that a few years into their relationship, both may be more open and less impulsive around each other. 
> 
> Feedback is appreciated!

 

You walk over to the kitchenette to make yourself a hot cup of cocoa. After Nicky has gone to shop for groceries and you've finally gotten Carmine to nap (barring the bathroom, his is the only other room in your tiny apartment), you're alone in here, and while you're waiting for the water to boil, you take in your surroundings. It's a dreary gray fall day and despite the early hour, you had to turn on the light. It bathes the room in a warm glow, but you still don't like it here. The place is located in a bad neighborhood where you're scared to walk without Nicky by your side (not even in your first days of prison were you feeling uncomfortable like that) and it's small and shabby, drafty and with paper-thin walls and cheap furniture that has been used by God-knows-how-many previous tenants for God-knows-how-many years. But this is the place where you get to live with Carmine and Nicky, and that makes it okay.

You live here because it's the only place you could afford after being released from prison. Well, technically, you could've had it better if Nicky had accepted her father's offer of financial support, an offer with which he'd wanted to smooth away decades of hurt and neglect, but Nicky couldn't bring herself to that, and you _understand_. You'd never hold it against her, but you can't deny that you can't wait for the day when you finally get to move to a better place. Your jobs don't pay a lot, but your combined income, paired with a lifestyle that does way more favors to Carmine than to the two of you, allows you to set aside a fair amount every month.

Carrying the steaming cup, you make your way over to the sleeper sofa, settle down and turn on the TV, thus effectively drowning out the noise of footsteps of the guy who's living above you (seriously, who the fuck even _allows_ houses to be built this way?). You hug a throw pillow to your chest and you make yourself comfortable as you start to lazily flick through the channels.

Several minutes later, you hear the unmistakable sounds of the door being locked open and then falling shut. You look up expectantly, and, as though you've summoned her, Nicky appears in your view.

"Lorna," the blonde mutters breathlessly before she practically collapses next to you on the sofa and pulls you into a tight hug, burying her face into the crook of your neck. You giggle lightly at this display of affection, but the next moment, you realize that something's wrong. Nicky is tense and she's trembling.

"Baby, what's wrong?" you ask as a wave of worry engulfs you.

"Nothing. I just missed you," Nicky mumbles into your skin, but her voice sounds off and she clings tighter to you and you call bullshit. But as much as you want to call her out on it, you know Nicky's tendency to withdraw when you press too hard, and so you resort to rubbing soothing circles on her back. You feel how she slowly relaxes into you and how her ragged and shallow breathing becomes more even. It all reminds you of how, years ago, back in Litchfield, Nicky sought you out in the pharmacy after Piscatella had held her hostage. You didn't know it back then, and, in all honesty, you still don't fully understand it now, but for some reason, just _being_ with you seems to bring her comfort.

"I can tell that there _is_ something," you try it again a while later. Despite your own agitation, you try to keep your voice gentle and you rub your fingertips up and down the soft skin behind Nicky's ear to mask the way your hands are shaking. "You don't gotta talk about it, but I wish I'd understand what's happening up _there_ ," you add, raking your fingers through the hair on top of Nicky's head.

She's silent for a few moments, but then, she snorts. "Eh, it's stupid."

You can't help but wryly smile. This sort of conversation isn't new to the pair of you, but it usually took place with roles reversed.

"You seem really affected by it, hon," you say. "If it does this do you, it can't be stupid." You've been on the receiving end of this reasoning a decent number of times and you hope that it hasn't become too old for making an impact on Nicky.

More silence ensues, but Nicky holds you tighter and it starts to hurt, but you don't mind. You tilt your head and press an encouraging kiss to her temple.

"Uh, so, I was walking down the street and then, just out of fucking _nowhere_ , uh, I… I saw that guy Jeremiah there," she finally starts, much to your relief. "One of my former dealers," she explains, and something starts to squirm uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. "I really wanted no piece of that fucker, but, uh, he recognized me and chatted me up."

Unconsciously, you grip her tighter, digging your fingernails into her skin, but if it hurts her, she doesn't let it show. You've seen first-hand what Nicky's like when she's using, and the Nicky who's currently trembling in your arms is nothing like that. But all the same, your mind is suddenly flooded by memories of Nicky retreating, snapping at everyone, forcing herself on you, lying, stealing and, finally, trashing around in her bed in agony as she was forced to detox. It isn't really something that you think about consciously, not _anymore_ , but ever since then, it's been an underlying fear of yours that this could happen again, and you can't bear the thought of losing her like that.

"But you... you didn't..." you start, unsure if you really want to know.

At this, Nicky abruptly sits up and looks you in the eye. Her face is pale, but the sudden rush of emotion seems to bring back some color.

"Fuck, no!" she exclaims. "Do you really think I'd-" But then, her shoulders sag as she continues, "Ah, shit, who the hell am I kidding? Of course, you think that. And I get it, 'cause it just… it felt just like back then, you know. Like I've never been to prison. And the scary part of it was that I'd've almost taken some of his gear. I swear to God I didn't want to, but it… it just _happened_ , like... like it was out of some creepy fucking sort of junkie muscle memory or some shit."

"Oh, honey," you gasp. You're so worried, and you can think of a bunch of violent things that you'd love to do to that scumbag dealer person, but you also feel a rush of pride as you realize how much the woman in front of you has changed. Nicky, for whom refraining from drugs has always posed a constant struggle, is now genuinely shaken by the mere thought of getting close to relapsing. But instead of doing just that, she stood her ground and is now here with you, safe and sound. And she trusted you and opened up to you instead of bottling everything up and trying to deal with it by herself, until it became too much. She seems unaware of the strength she showed today, and it ignites a warmth in you, a tender feeling that induces you to place your hands on her cheeks, lifting her head, so that her eyes are level to yours.

She diverts her gaze, like she's ashamed, embarrassed of showing weakness, of allowing you to see too much of her. It's ironic that the same woman who's so accepting of every single flaw of yours and who's always been there to give you comfort and support, regardless of the pettiness and stupidity of your problems, is so unwilling to accept help back from you. There was a time when you would've taken this personally, but you've come to learn that that's who Nicky _is_ , though you wish that she wouldn't be so hard on herself. Still, you need her to understand, and so you keep your eyes firmly trained on her.

"But you didn't," you say with vehemence, emphasizing each word. "You didn't take anything and I'm so proud of you!" You lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead. "So, _so_ proud!"

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, as though she thinks that she isn't deserving of your pride or of the comfort of your arms, and it breaks your heart, and you wish that you could scoop her up and tuck her away, far away from everything that makes her feel this way.

"You shouldn't be proud of me for not taking _heroin_ , for Christ's sake! Most people don't do that shit."

"But I _am_ ," you say, trying to bring your message across once and for all. "I _am_ , baby. You're doing so good with your sobriety. It must be so hard to grapple with it all the time, but here you are!"

She shakes her head again and you suddenly realize how tired, how done with it all, she looks.

"I can't stand this place anymore," she mumbles as she rests her head on your shoulder again, and you welcome her, gladly, back in your arms. "We should get the fuck out of here."

You suddenly feel a strange rush of excitement and your heart beats wildly in your chest. "Where d'you wanna go?" you ask softly.

"I don't care. Just... just out of this fucking town. Maybe out to the countryside, huh? Making a fresh start, y'know. Having a nice little house just for ourselves, far away from all those assholes, and Carmine can grow up surrounded by trees and lakes and everything instead of all this godforsaken fucked-up bullshit 'round here."

Her words unleash another surge of love to overwhelm you. You haven't thought you'd ever see the day when _Nicky Nichols_ would suggest something as blatantly traditional as a house in the green, and while you're sure that she wasn't actively thinking about it, the fact that she makes a point to include Carmine in her future planning is yet another way of showing how committed she is to a life with you.

"Yeah, we should do that," you whisper, letting your fingers gently glide up and down her back.

You're not sure if you've saved up enough money for moving already, but, as you press Nicky's cheek against your chest and start to kiss and nuzzle the top of her head, you decide that it's time to seriously start looking for places. But that's for tomorrow. Today, it's your priority to hold Nicky tight and to make her feel safe.

 


End file.
